The Red Wizards of Thay
by Jeremiah Gathnor
Summary: The story of five Red Wizards and their various adventures.
1. The Abjuration Test

Chapter 1 – The Abjuration Test

Andor was only barely nervous about his test. His mentor, Karlan, stood next to the door. The shorter, balder man was giving Andor what was obviously meant to be an encouraging smile. The gesture was noticeably foreign to the man, but it did make Andor feel slightly better. Karlan, at least, had some idea of what Andor was about to go through.

"If you are where you need to be," said the only other man in the room, "this test won't be a problem." He shifted his red robes slightly and stepped toward the door.

Andor looked down at his own robes. He was the only person in the room not wearing red. He hadn't worn red all his life, but he was now at the point that he could almost feel those red robes hanging from his shoulders. It was almost time.

The door in front of him slid open and Andor walked through it. The room he entered was just like the one he'd left. The walls were barren, the ceiling and floors spotless. There was nothing in the room except for another red-robed man.

"Andor?" the man asked.

"Yes, sir."

"This should be a fairly easy test. I'm going to cast spells at you. It's your job to prevent me from doing anything to you. I won't be pulling any punches. If you die during this test, it will only be proof that you came here unprepared and thus deserve to die for wasting out time. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"You are allowed to cast whatever spells you would like before the test begins. Feel free to do so now."

Andor nodded and thought for a second before making a few quick hand gestures and saying just the right words to cast a _shield_ spell. He sensed the invisible disk hovering in front of him, making him harder to hit and protecting him incase the wizard decided to try a _magic missile_ against him. That out of the way, Andor readied himself to defend against anything.

After a pause, the red-robed mage spoke again. "Are you ready?" When Andor nodded, he began to go through his own hand gestures, muttering his own arcane words.

Andor at once realized the wizard was trying an _acid splash_ on him. Without thought, he began casting his own _acid splash_ to counterspell and the two spells cancelled each other out.

The next spell the wizard began casting was more difficult, but Andor realized just in time that it was a _charm person_. This was a spell Andor wasn't able to cast himself, and so he had to try a more desperate measure. Moments after the wizard began to cast, Andor began casting his own spell. As the charm lashed out at him, he lashed out at it with a _dispel magic_, but missed.

Why had he been trying to dispel this guy's spell? Surely such a nice guy would never try to hurt him, so any spell he cast would obviously be helpful. He knew he must have identified the other man's spell wrong, and it was probably a good thing he'd missed with that dispel.

Out of nowhere, the red-robed wizard pulled a throwing dagger and flung it at Andor. He blinked as it rushed toward him, but luckily it was deflected by the invisible disk hovering protectively around him. How could he have ever thought this man was friendly? He knew he'd been charmed and it cut to the bone that he'd allowed himself to be so weak-willed.

Before he had time for much self-disappointment, the wizard began casting another spell. Instantly, Andor saw that it was _Melf's acid arrow_. Such a useful spell was nearly always in his repertoire, so Andor simply cast his own arrow and once again both spells fizzled each other out.

He barely had time to realize his victory over the last spell, however, before the red wizard began anew. As the realization of what spell the man was working on hit Andor, his mouth dropped. Not only could that spell quite possibly kill both of them at this range, Andor couldn't even cast it himself. He didn't have time for a _Resist Fire_ spell, so he'd have to try and counter it with another _Dispel Magic_. He wasted no time in casting and struck out at the energy building up in the other mage's _fireball_.

He was lucky this time. The _fireball_ failed ever to fly from the mage's hand. Immediately, without taking to congratulate himself, he kept up his guard. If the man had been willing to try that, there was no way to tell what he might try next.

But the man merely said "Congratulations, Andor, you've passed," and rushed from the room as though he was late for something more important. Karlan walked up behind his apprentice and grabbed him around the shoulder, causing Andor to flinch out of his grasp and back away. Karlan just smiled at this and nodded toward the room Andor had been in before. "You've only one test left, Andor, before you gain your robes. You shall be a Red Wizard in no time."


	2. Battle Royale

Chapter 2 – Battle Royale

Andor hadn't expected anything quite like what was being described to him. Karlan had told him there would be another test, but hadn't told him it would be quite like this. "Do not worry," said a red robed man standing beside a door. "When you passed the last test, you officially became a Red Wizard. The maze is just a test that we put new members through before the ceremony."

"I see."

The man cocked his head to the side, as though he were hearing something. Andor immediately recognized a received _message_, though he had no idea what the man was being told. He didn't really care. The man opened the door and said simply "Begin."

With a sigh, Andor stepped through the door. He found himself in a corridor, perhaps fifteen feet across. Twenty foot walls opened up into nothingness above. He couldn't hear anything, couldn't see anything but the walls, the corridor in front of him, and the openness above. From what he understood, he was somewhere on the outer edge of a giant half-circle maze, trapped with the other fifteen wizards who'd passed their tests recently. Somewhere in the center of the maze was a prize. The first wizard to get to it "won."

Shaking his head, Andor started forward. He wasn't particularly happy about this. There was a real chance he might come across someone more powerful than he was and be killed. The thought of death was not a happy one, and he was fairly certain that anyone he came across would try to kill him.

He kept his left hand on the left wall. He'd heard somewhere that if you followed one wall, you would eventually make it through a maze. It wasn't certain that this would work in this particular wizard's maze, but it was a start.

It was nearly an hour before he found another living being. Intermittent explosions made him quite sure there were others around, and that they were definitely hostile, but he didn't see one until he caught the sounds of footsteps from in front of him. There was an intersection there, and it sounded like the steps were coming from the path to his right. Andor slunk back against the right wall and silently cast _shield_ on himself. He could hope the other person wouldn't see him, but it would be stupid not to be prepared just in case.

A short, pudgy man jogged around the corner and turned right, heading off with his back to Andor. Andor breathed a sigh of relief. It disappointed him that he'd wasted the spell, but it was better to waste a spell than to be caught unprepared. After the other man's footsteps had faded away, Andor conjured some _mage armor_, just in case. Then, listening a bit more attentively, he went forward and took a left.

Mere minutes later he rounded another left and saw a tall, pale man coming toward him. The man looked like he'd already been in a fight or two, but immediately skid to a halt and began casting. Andor wasn't concerned by the _magic missile_ being cast at him. He thanked his luck that he'd cast _shield_ now. It hadn't been wasted after all. Instead of worrying about the spell, he put his hands up and called out "We don't have to fight. Why don't we work together?"

Three _magic missiles_ streaked at him, but he didn't even flinch. The intersected with the invisible shield hovering around him and were gone. The other mage's eyes widened. He then promptly turned tail and ran off in the direction he'd come from. Andor couldn't turn around without possibly condemning himself to walking around in circles until he was killed by a random evoker. Therefore, he trudged forward, following the pale man and hoping he stayed far enough behind. His _shield_ wouldn't last much longer, he knew.

A few minutes later, he came across the pale mage crouched over a dead body and loading a crossbow that he hadn't had before. Andor tried to hide against a wall, but the other mage saw him and fired. The bolt streaked toward him, but missed. "I don't want to fight," Andor tried again.

The mage stood and began casting another spell. _Fireball_. There was nothing Andor feared more than evocation, the school of magic he had never quite been able to grasp, and he seemed to be a magnet for it. He countered with _dispel magic_ and hit the fireball as it was forming. When the mage saw his spell puff out in his hand, he gave Andor another strange look.

"I can't turn around," Andor explained. "Truce?"

The other mage thought for a second. "Only until we get to the next intersection. After that, we go our separate ways."

"Agreed."

Andor strode forward, toward the other mage, who was looking down at the body at his feet. Together, they moved on.

"Why haven't you attacked me?" the mage asked as they were walking. He was still warily eyeing Andor.

"I'm not much for attacking. As my mentor says, 'The best offense is a good defense.'"

The man thought for a second. "I thought it was the other way around."

Andor smiled. "Most people do."

They continued on for another ten minutes or so before coming to a corner. When they went around the turn, there a hundred feet or so in front of them, was a large pedestal, on which rested a gray box. They'd found the center already. Andor was glad he was nearly out of this place.

The two mages turned to look at each other. Before the pale man had a chance to act, Andor began casting. Within seconds, the floor beneath the man was covered in _grease_ which surrounded him, ending right beside Andor's feet. Without a second thought, he began running forward toward the prize.

Behind him, he heard the other mage hit the ground as he slipped on the _grease_. Keeping watch over his shoulder, Andor moved more slowly than he'd have liked to toward the pedestal. He continued to hear the other man fall down again and again behind him. Finally, as he was looking forward, thinking he would make it, he suddenly incredibly exhausted. Slowed almost to a crawl by muscles that didn't want to work, he looked back in time to see the man standing, lowering the finger he'd been pointing at Andor. The pale man then abruptly fell over again.

Andor was more careful now, keeping a more vigilant watch as he crept closer and closer to the pedestal. His vigilance allowed him to notice the man casting a spell this time. He was going to try to _charm_ him. Mentally berating himself for not memorizing that spell earlier that morning, he turned and began a _dispel magic_. He lashed out with it, but missed.

"Hey buddy," the pale wizard called, "come help me out of this grease."

That was a good idea, Andor realized. His friend was obviously having trouble with the grease coating the ground around him. This was made even more obvious when the man fell over again, slipping for perhaps the third or fourth time. Slowly, Andor began trudging toward him.

Eventually, he made it over there and offered a hand to the once again standing mage. The man took his hand and tried to use him for leverage to get out of the _grease_, but instead, due to Andor's exhausted state, pulled them both down into the muck. As Andor lifted his head to try and figure out how they were going to get out of it, the _grease_ around them disappeared.

The pale man stood up and offered Andor a hand to help him up as well. "Watch my back," he said, then walked toward the pedestal.

Andor simply nodded, glanced behind them, and began backing toward the pedestal himself. He did his best to watch both what was going on with the man and the box and what might be coming up behind them. The pale man couldn't seem to get into the box. Andor tried to help by casting _open_ on it, but it didn't seem to change anything.

When Andor reached the other man, they began examing the box to try and find a way into it. All of a sudden both of them were covered in a _web_. The pedestal and the box disappeared. From somewhere down the corridor in front of them they heard "Ha ha ha!" and the sound of running footsteps.

The pale man growled and began to struggle out of the _web_. Seeing this, Andor began to attempt to break his way out as well. He just didn't have the strength to free himself, though.

"Stay here until you get your strength back," the other man said. "I'm going to go after whoever that was."

"Good idea."

As the pale wizard ran off, Andor sat back. He was rather tired. It would be nice to have rest.

A few minutes later, his strength did return. Hoping he could catch up to his friend, he began pulling free of the _web_. He jogged off after the pale mage, feeling rather refreshed. Six or seven hundred feet down the corridor there was an intersection. Near the middle of the intersection was the pale mage, apparently unconscious.

Andor walked up to the downed man slowly. He'd been charmed, he realized now. He seemed to have a weakness for that particular spell. Half out of disgust for himself, he kicked the man, then bent to take anything of value from him. There were a few weapons, such as the crossbow from earlier, which radiated a faint magical aura, but Andor had no interest in weapons. The man did possess three arcane scrolls though, and Andor had no problems relieving him of those.

He continued on. The left seemed to be full of blast marks where left by _fireballs_ and scorch marks left by _lightning bolts_. Roughly a half an hour after he left behind the unconscious body of the pale wizard, he slipped around a corner to see two mages squaring each other up. The one across from him noticed him, but the other had his back to him.

"15 gold if you help me defeat him," said the one who was now glancing at Andor.

As the mage in the middle was muttering inaudibly in what sounded like a confused tone, Andor nodded his head and raised his hands to show that he wasn't armed. The money meant nothing to him, but if he could build trust with one of them, perhaps he wouldn't have to fight both.

The tall mage that Andor had allied himself with began casting a _fireball_. The blast sent the other mage into the wall, but he got up and started his own spell. Just from the words and what he could see of the hand gestures, Andor knew it was _Melf's acid arrow_. Luckily, Andor had that spell memorized. He'd just realized he didn't have any more _dispels_ in his mind.

Without hesitation, he countered the mage's spell. When the _acid arrow_ fizzled in his hands, he seemed even more confused than he had been earlier. The tall mage hit the other with a magic missile and the mage dropped to the ground.

Andor stepped warily forward, hoping the other man wasn't about to throw another fireball. The man simply smiled at him though, and motioned him over. A little less cautious, Andor joined him near the guy they'd just taken down. "Nice work," the man said, "I'm Andris."

"Pleased to meet you, Andris. I'm Andor, the Secure. I always thought that title was a bit of a joke, though."

"Why is that?"

"I'm actually rather insecure."

Andris smiled again. "I see. Well, Andor, I don't really want to fight you. Care to join up and look for this prize together?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea."

"You're armed, right?"

Andor's left eyebrow rose slightly. "Armed? No, I'm afraid not."

Andris simply reached into one of his sleeves and offered Andor a dagger. "Just in case."

Andor didn't really want it, but he took it anyway, so as not to jeopardize this uneasy friendship. Together, the two mages continued on. It wasn't but ten minutes later that they turned a corner and in front of them was a larger room. There was another pedestal in the middle of the room. Floating above it was a ring.

"We found it," Andris exclaimed.

"Don't be so sure. I've already run into one illusory prize."

Andris glanced at him. "This would be a very difficult illusion to pull off. I should know. I'm something of an illusionist myself."

"Then what happens now?"

"Well I don't really want to fight you for it. Why don't we flip a coin?"

Andor looked over at him skeptically. He'd just claimed to be an illusionist and was now asking to leave it to chance. Still, it would be better than fighting the other mage. Especially as Andor was low on useful spells.

"Alright," he said finally, "but I'm casting _dispel_ on the coin afterwards. No offence, but you did just claim to be an illusionist."

"I perfectly understand." Andris took a coin out of his pouch and rubbed it between his hands. He began to do an elaborate ritual, passing the coin from hand to hand in strange hand gestures. Andor was quite intrigued by this. The man must flip coins a lot if he has such a ritual for doing it.

"Call it," Andris said right before tossing the coin in the air.

"Heads," Andor immediately said.

The coin came down into Andris's upturned palm showing tales. It suddenly occurred to Andor that it had quite possibly come down heads. It was likely the hand gestures were the somatic components of an illusion spell. "Care to cast _dispel_?"

Andor had no way of telling whether his bluff had actually worked. "Not really. I don't care that much about this prize anyway." Andris just shrugged and walked forward, taking the ring from the pedestal.

As soon as he slipped the ring on, they were approached by two Red Wizards. "Congratulations," one of them said, "you two are the winners."

They were teleported to a room high above the maze. The floor was clear so that the entire maze was visible below them. There were six other Red Wizards and fourteen other wizards, a few of which Andor recognized. The pale wizard was there, as was the mage who had passed him by without seeing him earlier.

One of the mages who had teleported them up there walked up to Andor and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm very proud of you Andor. You've gained much respect for the Abjurers. The Illusionists will try to claim that Andris actually won because he fooled you with an illusion on the coin and got the ring, but the fact that you made it to the end and survived says something about what we can do."

"It didn't fool me. I just didn't have the means to call him on it. And I didn't care much for a prize anyway. I'm just wanted to get out alive."

"You couldn't have died, actually. There's an enchantment on the whole maze that makes sure no one ever dies, but is knocked unconscious instead."

That explained a lot, Andor realized. If the wizards died in there, there would rarely be more than one living graduate from each session.

"She took out four people before going down!" someone across the room argued rather loudly. Andor looked over to see that it was a red-faced Red Wizard. "That must count for something!"

The man beside Andor sighed. "The evoker is getting out of hand again. One of the evokers went looking for opponents to destroy, apparently with the rationality that if she took everyone else out, the prize would be hers by default."

"Only an evoker could think that way," Andor said solemnly, shaking his head in disgust.

"My sentiments exactly," the man said. "I'd better go try and calm him down. Great job down there. Oh, and congratulations on passing the tests. You'll get your robes at the ceremony tonight." With that, he strode off toward the other Red Wizards, followed closely by the other who had brought them up and had just been talking with Andris.

He'd done it, he realized. He was a Red Wizard. And from the looks some of the others were giving him, a fairly well respected Red Wizard, at least among this group.

Andor wandered over to one side of the large room, away from the others. He couldn't help but think of how happy his parents would be. And his great-uncle Alumviris, who'd been like a second father to him most of his life. His brothers would only continue to laugh at him for being an abjurer, blissfully unaware that they'd made him into one. One day, Andor would prove to all three of his brothers that he was just as capable and just as powerful as they are. Some day.


	3. The Cracked Mug

Chapter 3 – The Cracked Mug

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

Andor opened his eyes. "Just a second," he called, and then winced at the sound of his own voice. Standing shakily, he pulled his red robes on. His head was splitting. What had he been doing last night?

Still blinking through pained eyes, he opened the door, hiding everything but his head behind the door. It took a second to see anything through the blinding light of the midday sun, but slowly a vision came out. Andris was standing there decked in red. "You know what the best cure is for a hangover, right?" he asked.

"No," Andor admitted. "Is that what this is?"

"Let's go. You need a drink."

Andor blinked a few times, sighed, decided to trust him, and said simply, "Give me a minute. I just woke up." He opened up the door and let Andris in, then headed off to freshen. A few minutes later they were standing in a pub called the Cracked Mug. If Andor remembered correctly, this is where they'd been the night before. It seemed so, as Andor couldn't remember ever being here before that and the bartender greeted the two of them when they walked in. Then again, they were Red Wizards now, and Andor needed to get used to being treated better than he was before.

The two of them sat at the bar. "Two ales," Andris told the bartender.

Andor shifted in his robes. His chest hurt where the new tattoo was. His hand twitched trying not to rub at it. Some of this must have shown on his face, because Andris took one look at him and said, "The tattoo?'

"Yeah. How did you know about that?"

"You showed them to me last night. I would never have thought you had the pain tolerance for that many tattoos."

"I am honestly not sure I do, either," Andor muttered, "but there's something cathartic about the needlework. It hurts, but it makes me feel better. Does that make any sense?"

"No, not really."

"Eh."

They fell into silence as the drinks arrived. Andor began sipping his ale, while Andris was drinking his much more quickly. After a few sips, the Abjurer looked around the room. Most of the people that would occupy a bar at noon were not the kind of people Andor cared much for. One patron, however, did catch his eye. At a table off to the side sat the pale wizard he'd worked with in the maze. He too was dressed in red robes, though they were trimmed in black.

Squinting to make sure it was who he thought it was, Andor caught the man's eye. He motioned for the slightly creepy wizard, apparently a Necromancer, to join them at the bar. After a few seconds, he nodded and stood up to approach and sit beside Andor.

"Hale," Andris said loudly, bringing another wince from Andor, as the man sat down. "Andris Whighte, at your service." He offered a hand behind Andor's back.

The man shook it and said in a low, dusky voice, "I am Lance Zyrtinis."

"Andor," Andor offered. "Sorry about the _grease_."

Lance shrugged to show he'd already put it behind him.

"Another ale for Lance here," Andris said, and the drinking began anew.

Not long after that another wizard walked in. It wasn't obvious at first that he was a Red Wizard, as his robes were mostly black, but the red stripes down the front named him such without too much inspection. Anyone in Thay who was wearing even that much red was either a Red Wizard or hoping for a painful death.

Andris immediately called this newcomer over. "Greetings," he said as the man approached, "I remember seeing you at the graduation ceremony. I am Andris Whighte, this is Lance Zyrtinis and Andor—" He paused for a moment, unsure of what to call him, "the Secure. Join us for a drink."

"Join you? Certainly. I am called Kal Mar. It is good to meet you all. Lance, it is good to finally have a name to place the face with."

As Kal sat on Lance's other side, the pale man explained to the other two, "We went through training together. We did not meet until just now, but we have seen each other quite a few times."

Andor and Andris nodded acceptance and Andris ordered Kal a drink and they began small talk and drinking. Andris and Kal both seemed to be drinking as normal people do. Andor sipped from his ale but couldn't help notice he was beginning to feel better. He wasn't certain it was the alcohol doing it, but his head was throbbing less than it had when he'd awoken. Lance hadn't touched his ale, but was sipping wine he'd ordered.

As they were in the middle of a discussion about their tests, the doors to the bar burst open. Out of the sun strode a beautiful woman wearing intricately embroidered red robes. Her hair was elaborately done and she gave off an air of expense. All eyes on her, she strode up to the bar, glanced around the room, and said loudly to the bartender, "A round of your best wine for all the Red Wizards in the house, to celebrate my graduation."

Andor caught Andris's eye. There was a merry twinkle in it at the moment, though Andor wasn't sure if it was because of the ale he'd had or the ale he was about to have. The woman sat a few stools down from them and took the wine from the bartender. The bartender then approached the other four wizards set four more glasses in front of them. Kal and Andris drained the ones they were working on and had a hand on the wineglass when the bartender said "Elven wine, compliments of the lady." Andris's hand froze on his glass, Andor didn't even reach for his, Kal took a hesitant sip, and Lance shrugged and took a large swig from his glass.

"That's probably not a good idea," Andris said, trying to warn him. "Elven wine is incredibly strong for anyone but an elf."

Lance just shrugged again and said, "It's good."

Andris simply gave the others an 'I tried' look and took a sip of his own wine. After his first sip, Kal set his glass beside Lance's and ordered another ale. As Andor was taking another sip of his ale, still the original mug, Andris leaned over to him and said quietly, "You should go talk to her."

Andor was apparently drunk. He didn't feel drunk, but it seemed like a good idea, so he must have been. "Sure, why not."

So he set his mug down, stood up and walked past Lance, who'd already passed out, and Kal, who was smiling at something or another, and approached this oddly flamboyant wizardess.

"Hi," he said, catching her attention. When she was looking at him he held out his hand and said, "Thanks for the drink. I'm Andor."

She took his hand delicately. "Kassandrah. Kassandrah Black."

"May I join you?"

"Of course."

He sat beside her turning to keep himself open to her. "You say you just graduated?"

"That is correct. Just last night."

"We must have been in that maze together, then. I, too, graduated last night."

She seemed to perk up at this and become a bit more interested. "I am told I did fairly well. I eliminated four others before someone snuck up behind me. How many did you eliminate?"

Something went off in Andor's mind. He knew he'd approached the wrong person and now needed a way out that didn't involve an explosion. "Well, not quite that many. I would like to think I did fairly well, but four? That is quite impressive."

"It is, is it not?"

"I assume that most of those explosions I heard were you then?"

She smiled, apparently thinking back on it. "Oh yes. It was quite fun."

Andor nodded and his mind raced for a way out. "Would you like to join my friends over there?" He motioned toward the other three. Andris and Kal were talking over Lance's unconscious form lying across the bar.

She looked over at them, probably making sure they were all wearing red, and nodded. "We all graduated together," Andor explained as they made their way over. When the two of them reached the others, Kal elbowed Lance, who awoke with a start. "Everyone," Andor began, "this is Kassandrah Black. This is Kal Mar, Lance Zyrtinis, and Andris Whighte."

As each was introduced, she offered them her hand. Kal held it for his moment delicately, Lance a little less so. Andris went so far as to stand as he was introduced and kiss her hand when it was offered. Andor did his best not to smile. Perhaps that would keep her attention from him.

After she sat on Andris's other side, Lance leaned over to see her around Andris and Andor. "Kassandrah Black," he slurred, "how would you like to spend the evening with me?"

Her eyebrow raised dangerously.

Hastily, Andor interjected. "Forgive him, he had a bit too much wine."

She nodded, but her eyebrow didn't go down. "How did you all do in the tests?" she asked.

"Well enough to pass," Kal smiled.

"How many other wizards did you eliminate?"

Kal and Andris seemed to catch on immediately. "One," Kal said simply. Lance raised a finger as well. Andris half-frowned. "Only two, I'm afraid. On the other hand, Andor and I were the only ones who made it to the center of the maze."

She nodded in what could have been a sign of respect. "Andor, you never actually mentioned a number when I asked you earlier."

"About that," he began, "I did not technically eliminate anyone."

"None? And you made it to the center of the maze? How is that possible?"

Andris leaned over to her and said in a low voice, "He is an Abjurer." She snickered behind her hand.

"Ah. I see."

"In his defense," Andris explained in a normal tone, "he was vital in one of my eliminations?"

"You two worked together?"

"You might say that," Andor said. "More precisely, we recognized the benefit of not turning on each other after we defeated a common enemy. After he was gone, there was no one else left in the maze, so we both sort of won by default at that point."

"I see."

The conversation turned to talk of lessons at that point. The education of a mage from each school was vastly more different than they'd imagined. Kal and Lance, the two Necromancers, had slightly different but relatively similar educations, but Andor, and Abjurer, Andris, an Illusionist, and Kassandrah, an Evoker, all had different educations from the rest.

As they were discussing, a messenger slipped into the bar and approached the bartender. A few moments later, the bartender approached the group of Red Wizards and said "Excuse me, Masters and Madam, but is one of you Andor Sarenson?"

"I am," Andor said.

The bartender handed him a note and nodded over at the messenger now standing once again by the door. Andor nodded to the man, who promptly left, and excused himself from the conversation before standing and walking away a few steps and opening the note.

_Andor_

_Congratulations on your graduation. I regret that I was unable to attend the ceremony, but I was occupied at work, as usual. Come by the arena tonight so we can talk and I can congratulate you in person._

_Alumviris_

Andor smiled. He glanced up at the others and considered just slipping out. The last thing he wanted to do, though, was be rude to an Evoker. As he approached, they turned to look at him. "A letter from my Great-Uncle Alumviris. He wants me to meet him at the gladiatorial arena. Would any of you care to join me?"

"You guys go ahead," Lance smiled drunkenly, "Kassandrah and I will retire to my place."

Kassandrah looked even more angry this time. Andor held up a hand to her, hoping it would stop her from doing anything too explosive. After she'd settled enough that he was sure she wasn't going to kill anyone, he made a few arcane gestures, spoke a few arcane words, and cast _charm_ on Lance. "Lance, my friend, it might be better for your bodily health if you refrained from speaking for a while."

"Good idea, Andor. I'm certainly glad you have my back."

Andor just nodded and turned to the rest of the group. "So what do you all say?"

Andris was looking at him funny. "Your Great-Uncle Alumviris. Alumviris Sarenson?"

"Yes."

"_The_ Alumviris Sarenson? The most famous gladiatorial boss in all of Bexantur?"

"That sounds like him."

"Why did you never mention that Alumviris Sarenson is your great-uncle?"

"It never came up."

Andris laughed. "Yes. Yes, I think I will come with you."

"Gladiatorial arena means fighting. I will also accompany you," Kassandrah said.

"And fighting means blood," Kal smiled maliciously. "I never miss a chance to see blood."

"Sounds like fun," was all Lance could muster.

Andris paid for the drinks and the five of them more stumbled than walked out of the bar. Andor alone seemed mostly unaffected by the alcohol, which made sense as he had had the least of it. Andris, Kal, and Kassandrah were fine to walk on their own, though they did stumble occasionally. Lance, however, needed support, and had to lean heavily on Andor's shoulder, prompting the joke, "You know, you actually are more secure than you look."

Eventually, they made it to the largest arena in town. As Alumviris hadn't told his nephew where to meet him, they took seats in the stands. As they sat a bout was being announced in the arena below.

First to come out of the gate were two lizardmen dressed in poorly fitted banded mail and wielding longspears. Andor happened to know they where brothers owned by his uncle. Behind the lizardmen, accompanied by a roar of the crowd, came a hulking minotaur in chain male and carrying a spiked chain. Andor's face lit up and he turned to the wizards beside him.

"Bloodhorn, the call him," he said, moments before the crowd began chanting just that. "He's never lost a fight. Uncle Alumviris claims he's the best gladiator in Bexantur. I've seen him fight a few times. It's amazing."

They all brightened at the sound of that. Andor looked back to the arena just in time to see the opposite gate open and a huge ogrish being step out. "Is that a—" someone said. Then the announcer told them all what it was. The minotaur and the lizardmen would be facing an ogre mage. This would definitely be an interesting fight.

Bloodhorn began by simply lowing his head and charging in a typical minotaur fashion, leaving the two lizardmen to follow behind him. The ogre mage set himself to dodge the charging horns, but Bloodhorn changed directions at the last second and ogre mage stepped right into his path. Two large horns pierced right into its side and it flew backwards onto the ground a good ten or fifteen feet from where it had been standing.

When the ogre mage hit the ground, it vanished. The chanting for Bloodhorn, who's horns were now bloody enough to make Kal giggle a few seats down, grew even louder as the ogre mage disappeared from view.

The lizardmen were peering around anxiously, obviously afraid of a sneak attack by the brute they were fighting. Bloodhorn was simply swinging one end of his chain, sniffing the air with massive nostrils, and waiting. After a few seconds, he took a step forward. Then another. He seemed to be following his nose. Occasionally, he would swing the chain at the air in front of him, but he never seemed to hit anything.

After a few minutes, the ogre mage suddenly appeared about thirty feet in front of Bloodhorn. As it appeared, the area around the other three gladiators suddenly went black. Seconds later, the minotaur rushed out of the darkness, head lowered again. The lizardmen came out on opposite sides, but rushed for the ogre mage as well. The ogre mage dodged the charging horns this time, but stepped into a spear from one of the lizardmen, which seemed to pass through its body.

For a few minutes, the arena seemed chaotic. The minotaur and the lizardmen barely seemed to be touching the ogre mage, but the ogre mage, in turn, couldn't seem to hit them either. Finally, it rushed off to one edge of the arena. The other three followed, right into a cone of bluish air flowing from the ogre mage's hand. Bloodhorn and one of the lizardmen jumped out of the way, thus spending less time in the cone's area. The other lizardman, however, seemed frozen to the core almost immediately and stumbled against the wind, nearly falling when the wind stopped.

The ogre mage now rushed forward, taking advantage of the confusion, and swatted the nearly frozen lizardman aside like a stirge. Before the lizardman had even hit the ground, however, Bloodhorn whipped his spiked chain around the ogre mage's head and pulled, severing the head from the body.

The ogre mage's body stumbled around for a few seconds before tripping and hitting the ground, then twitching randomly. Bloodhorn picked up the head by the hair and raised it above his head, roaring for the crowd.

The entire arena went wild. Many of the people in the audience spent most of their day at the gladiatorial arena watching these fights, but few of them ended this dramatically. Bloodhorn obviously was the best gladiator in the city. He was also definitely a crowd favorite.

As the roars of the minotaur and the crowd died down, a messenger appeared at Andor's shoulder. "Alumviris will see you now." Andor nodded and followed the man, leaving the others to enjoy the next fight.

The messenger led him below the arena into an office section. After they passed a few doors, he was announced into an office larger than any of the others.

"Andor, my boy!" Alumviris exclaimed, coming out from behind his desk. "You're dressed in red! Congratulations, Andor, welcome to the brotherhood." He plucked at his own red robes for show before grasping Andor in a strong bearhug.

"Thank you, Uncle Alumviris. It is good to see you."

"Great to see you too, kid. But I did not call you here just for a social visit. We have some business to discuss." He kept an arm around Andor and led him to the desk, where he continued in a hush voice. "Now, Andor, you know I always preferred you to any of your brothers. I doubt they realize that, but that is exactly my point. Anyway, I have been in the gladiator business for far longer than is normal, and I am very glad you showed up when you did. I was very much hoping that you would be the first to know that that fight between Bloodhorn and the ogre mage was not only his last fight, but mine as well. I am finished with this business, Andor, and that is precisely why I called you here."

"I'm afraid I fail to understand, Uncle. How do I play into your retirement?"

"Let me ask you something, Andor. Why did you become an Abjurer? Your father, your brother, and I are all Enchanters. Your mother and your other brother are Transmuters. I don't know what happened to Darok. I will never understand why he would choose the army over the Red Wizardry, but there you have it. What caused you to choose neither of the paths set in your family and focus yourself on abjuration?"

"I chose abjuration because my brothers were an Enchanter, a Transmuter, and an officer in the army. They harassed me as a child and two of them developed powerful magical talent. I had no reason to believe they would stop harassing me, no matter what I became, and so I sought a way to protect myself from whatever they could throw at me. I was right, by the way. Even at the ceremony last night, they wouldn't lay off. Unfortunately, in seeking to protect myself, I only opened myself up to verbal harassment."

"Dear boy, I almost pity you for what I am about to tell you."

"What is it, Uncle?"

"I have a graduation present for you. If not for the fact that it was all already arranged, I might try something else, but I fear I may have just destroyed your reason for becoming a wizard in the first place." He looked past Andor at the door to the office. "Enter!" he called out.

The door swung open. The messenger who had brought Andor here entered, followed by Goreaulk "Bloodhorn" himself, covered in significantly less blood than the last time Andor had seen him. When the minotaur was in the room, the messenger bowed himself out and closed the door behind him.

"Andor," Alumviris said, "meet Goreaulk "Bloodhorn," the greatest gladiator in all of Bexantur. He has recently fought his last gladiatorial bout and he went out in a blaze of glory, if I may say so. He was until quite recently, my most prized slave. He is now your most prized slave. It is his responsibility to protect you at all costs. There is a bit more to it than that, of course, if you catch my meaning."

Andor's eyes widened more and more as Alumviris explained all of this. He did catch his meaning, quite well. Alumviris, one of the most powerful Enchanters in the area, had given this minotaur a _geas_. If it didn't protect its new master, it would slowly wither and die. "Hail, Bloodhorn," Andor said, quite nervously. "That was a spectacular fight."

"Thank you, Master," was the beast's only response.

"Speaking of spectacular fights," Alumviris exclaimed, "I have something for you as well, Goreaulk, in commemoration for your final battle as a gladiator and your switching of masters." He reached into his desk and pulled out a large sword. It looked quite large to Andor, but when it was handed to the minotaur, he realized it was merely a short sword in the massive creature's hands. "This blade," Alumviris explained, "is enchanted to accept poison easier than other blades. The inside of the scabbard is lined in one of my favorite scorpion venoms. Use it well in your task, Bloodhorn, and do your best not to cut yourself with it, lest you die a horribly painful death."

"Master Alumviris too kind, sir," the minotaur rumbled in broken common.

Alumviris's smiling gaze swiveled back to his nephew. "I don't quite know what to say, Uncle."

"That's quite understandable, Andor. I'm sure the thought of owning something so much bigger and stronger than you are is a bit disconcerting. Still, you must remember that Goreaulk will never hurt you."

"I believe you, Uncle. I just wasn't expecting anything like this."

"Well I gave Jamar and Sondre slaves when they graduated. I saved my best for you, though."

"Thank you, Uncle Alumviris. I'm honored."

"Get out of her, Andor," he replied, smiling. "I've got business to take care of and you're minotaur is taking up most of the room. Congratulations again. I will see you in a few days, no doubt."

"Goodbye, Uncle Alumviris. Thank you again."

As Andor and Bloodhorn left, they were approached by the messenger. "Follow me, if you will, sir. Master Alumviris wishes for Bloodhorn to be equipped before you depart." They followed him to Alumviris's armory, where Bloodhorn was fitted with the spiked banded mail Andor had seen him wearing in a fight once. The minotaur then took the spiked chain he'd just decapitated an ogre mage with and a huge axe he'd likely killed dozens with. The poisoned sword Alumviris had given him earlier looked tiny compared to the other weapons.

Once the beast was fully equipped and looking more dangerous than normal, Andor pressed a few gold into the messenger's hand and asked him to tell the four other Red Wizards he had been with to meet him outside the arena. "I do not think it a good idea for Bloodhorn here to walk through the crowd. It may start a riot."

Nodding, the messenger headed off.

Andor looked up at his only slave. What was he going to do with a massive minotaur? He had a distinct feeling that he would spent just as much time protecting Goreaulk "Bloodhorn" as Goreaulk "Bloodhorn" would spend protecting him.

"Welcome to my household, Goreaulk." It was really all he could think to say. "I hope I never need to rely on your services."


End file.
